Winchester Shoes
by marinawings
Summary: Little Sam Winchester tries on his big brother's boots... And about twenty years later, Dean returns the favor. Prepare to feel warm and fuzzy inside.


_Dedicated to Andrew, my tall, lanky, "little" brother who wears Sasquatch boots, has Sam Winchester hair, and is supernaturally good at history, biology, and making people laugh… Let's just hope a yellow-eyed demon doesn't have anything to do with his mad skills… If said brother does not read this fic, I will refuse to play video games with him for an entire week._

**Inspiration: **The inspiration for this fic originated in real life--my life. I couldn't find my shoes, and I was going outside to feed the dog, so I stepped into my younger brother's shoes. They were really, really big, and it felt weird… And then I started getting all these memories about when we were little and he was even littler than me and I, his big sister, was totally his hero. And then I started hoping that he still looks up to me, even though he is about five inches taller than me and wears really big boots all the time… So that's where the idea for this story was born, and like any real baby, it woke me up well after midnight, screaming to be heard…

This story wouldn't leave me the heck alone. I got no sleep because of it…

Enjoy! And let me know what you think!

PART ONE: IN MY SHOES

"Sammy! What are you doing in my shoes?" Dean Winchester, ten years old and furious, stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at the offending little brother.

Sam looked up at Dean from under the cowboy hat, wide-eyed and grinning. Innocent. "Your shoes are big, Dean!" he told his brother admiringly. He lifted one small foot, shaking it so that the too-big hiking boot wiggled in mid air. "You got big feet!"

Dean crossed his arms, pressed his lips together, tried to stay angry. Sam's persistent gaze of near-worship drove the anger out of him like a punch to the gut drives out air. Dean softened, relaxed, smiled a bit at his little brother. "Oh yeah? Well maybe one day, Sammy, you'll be as big as me."

"Really?" Wonder and hope lit up Sam's chubby little face.

"Yep. Just… Not _quite _as big," Dean amended, clinging to his preteen pride. He chuckled lightly. "Where'd you get that cowboy hat?"

"Dad gave it to me," Sam announced proudly.

"Dad was here?" Dean asked quickly, suddenly alert.

"Yeah. He left you a paper on the counter." Sam pointed to the counter of the motel room's kitchenette. A smile blossomed on his face. "He promised to bring back some candy."

_Mmmmm. Candy. _Dean's stomach rumbled at the thought. He smiled broadly. "Keep practicing in my shoes, Sam," he instructed his brother as he headed for the counter.

"Okay," the younger Winchester replied. He proceeded to stomp around the room in a clumsy imitation of Dean's confident stride.

Shaking his head in amusement, Dean snatched the note from the counter and began to read. As he comprehended the words, his smile faded. _Danger… We might be in danger… _Quietly, so as not to alarm Sam, Dean moved to the door of the motel room, sliding the bold lock into place. He then turned to face Sam, hesitating.

Oblivious to any danger, Sam was hopping around in front of the TV.

Dean wondered if he should tell Sam about Dad's note… Slowly, he crumpled it up and jammed it into the pocket of his jeans…

"Uh-oh!" Sam's balance finally gave way, thrown off by the empty inches of Dean's boots, and the little boy tumbled to his knees, the cowboy hat dropping to the carpet in front of him.

"Sam!" Dean rushed to his brother's side, feeling guilty for encouraging the romp in too-large shoes. "Are you okay?" Gently, he slid his hands under Sam's arms and lifted him to his feet.

Sam looked up at Dean with a grin. "A-okay," he proclaimed.

The phrase sounded funny coming out of the little boy's mouth. Dean wondered where he had heard it.

"Your shoes are too big, Dean," Sam said, suddenly serious. "I can't walk in your shoes." He plopped to the carpet and yanked off one boot, then the other. "Here, Dean." He held up the boots by their laces, offering them to his big brother.

Dean solemnly took the boots from his brother's little hands and sat beside him on the carpet. "It's okay, Sam," he said quietly, sliding one foot, then the other, into the shoes. "I'll wear them for both of us."

PART TWO: IN HIS SHOES

Dean remembered watching Sam stomp around the motel room in Dean's boots. The memory made him smile a bit. He was glad Sam wasn't around, because he knew his little brother would ask, "What's so funny, Dean?" and he would have to come up with a decent lie to avoid the potential chick flick moment that would follow telling the truth.

Dean glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Sam probably wouldn't be back for half and hour or so… Which meant Dean could take a nap or eat something deliciously unhealthy or ogle some random hot babe without being harassed… although, he had to admit he was somewhat lonely when he wasn't being harassed by his little brother… _Okay, _really _lonely…_

Dean rolled over on the motel bed, wincing a bit at the sharp pain in his shoulder … Then he saw Sam's shoes.

"Now what are the odds of that?" he muttered to himself, sitting up and staring at the big, muddy boots by the door.

A strange curiosity suddenly seized him, and he flung his legs over the edge of the bed, green eyes fixed on his little brother's big shoes…

Dean stood up and walked to the door, then peered through the peephole. No sign of Sam or the Impala… "Better be taking care of my baby," Dean muttered.

Sighing, Dean slipped his right foot into Sam's right shoe. "Whoa. Big feet, Sasquatch." With a grin, he stepped into the left shoe.

"Huh." It felt strange to stand in someone else's shoes, someone else's gigantic boots… Sammy's boots. It made Dean feel suddenly small…

A shaky sigh escaped him at that thought. Feelings of unimportance came crashing down on him, along with memories of his failures, his mistakes…

Dean swallowed hard, blinking fiercely to keep tears from blurring his view of his brother's shoes. "I can't walk in your shoes, Sammy," he whispered, ruthlessly swallowing down the lump in his throat.

The door burst open suddenly, and Sam walked in, carrying a bag of groceries. His eyebrows shot up as his eyes landed on Dean. "Dean… What are you doing?"

"Uh, I, uh--" Dean was glad he had managed, in an awesome feat of manliness, to keep from breaking down… but… he was still standing in Sam's shoes…

"You're still recovering, Dean." Sam set the bag on the floor, eyes narrowed in concern. "You should be in bed."

"But I'm not," Dean replied casually. "I'm in your shoes."

"O…kay…" Sam was looking at Dean sideways.

"Just wanted to see what it's like to be a Sasquatch," Dean remarked with a crooked grin, stepping out of the shoes. "Must be hard, lugging those big feet around."

"It's harder lugging a big brother around after he passes out because he gets the idea in his head that he's a human shield," Sam shot back, closing the door behind him.

"Your shoes are just too big for me, Sammy, so I'm gonna pass on stealing them--at least for today," Dean said, ignoring his brother's jibe and bending to inspect the contents of the grocery bag. "I might can use them later if I need to patch my tires… What!? No M &M's!?"

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, snatching up the bag and placing it on the counter. "Nope. Not this time, Dean."

Dean sighed dramatically. "You sure know how to take the fun outta life, Sam."

"I'm too busy watching my big feet to have fun," Sam countered.

Dean shook his head, grinning a bit. Good ol' Sammy. "So… Any word on the possible demon possession?"

"Looks like it's legit," Sam replied, beginning to unpack the groceries. "Witnesses did smell sulfur at the scene of the crime, and there is known Satan worshipping in the area."

Dean crossed the room to help Sam with the groceries. "Any leads on who might be involved?"

"There's a man on the local school board who-- Dean."

There was no mistaking the rebuke in Sam's tone. Dean didn't like it.

"What!?"

"Your shoulder."

"Heck with it, Sammy. It's healing just fine." Dean's reply wasn't very convincing when he gasped in pain trying to lift a bag of rock salt off the counter.

"Dean…" Sam reached into the grocery bag and yanked out a bottle of pills, snatching the heavy bag of salt away from his brother. "Ibuprofen." And a bottle of water. "Take it."

"What're you gonna do if I don't?" Dean asked defiantly. "Kick me with your big feet?"

Sam glared.

Dean snatched the pills and water from his brother's hands and headed back toward the twin beds on the far side of the room, muttering a few insults as he went. He suddenly missed the old days, being the big brother, being the caretaker and the boss… The memory of that day when Sam walked in his shoes suddenly returned…

…and made him look at the door.

Sam had forgotten to lock it.

Dean walked to the door, tucking the water bottle under his arm and shoving the pill into his pocket, wincing a bit at the ache in his shoulder. He quickly locked the doorknob and reached to slide the chain lock in place, opening his mouth to sarcastically remind Sam of what had been forgotten… But he didn't. Silently, shaking his head, he slid the lock in place, then turned toward the beds, suddenly weary.

He sank down onto his bed, checking under his pillow for his knife, making sure his pistol was still in the nightstand drawer, even though there was no way either could have been moved… He sighed and relaxed gingerly against the pillows, favoring his wounded shoulder. He popped a pain pill into his mouth and washed it down with a swig of water, then set the pill and water bottles on the nightstand, closing his eyes.

"Your shoes are still too big for me," Sam spoke up suddenly.

Dean opened his eyes, raising an eyebrow at his brother, who was staring at him intently. "What are you talking about, Sam?"

Sam looked away, looked to where their boots rested side by side near the door.

Dean followed his brother's gaze. "Need your eyes checked or something? Your shoes are clearly bigger than mine."

"That's not what I mean, Dean, and you know it," Sam said sharply.

Dean met his brother's eyes, his throat suddenly tight. "What do you mean, Sam?"

"I saw you lock the door," Sam replied.

"Yeah? So?" Dean frowned, not following his brother's reasoning.

"And I saw you check for your knife, check for your gun…"

"Sam, you're really starting to worry me, man." Dean chuckled dryly. "I do this every day, and--"

"Exactly," Sam interrupted intensely.

Dean blinked.

"You're always looking after me, Dean, just like--just like when we were kids." Sam smiled a bit, then, the smile softening his voice. "Do you remember that day when I tried on your boots?"

_This day just keeps on getting weirder…. _"Yeah," Dean replied.

"And that warlock was in town, hunting kids?"

"… yeah."

"You know, I had no idea back then how much danger I was in." Sam shook his head, leaning on the counter, his eyes distant with memory. "But you did." He looked at Dean, smiling crookedly. "And you looked after me. Just like you always do. You're shoes are still pretty big, Dean."

Both brothers were quiet for a moment, remembering.

Dean's injured big-brother pride felt suddenly warm… and fuzzy… which was altogether weird. He managed a hoarse, "Thanks, Sam," then couldn't take the emotional vulnerability any longer. He closed his eyes. "So… Tomorrow morning, you can tell me about this school board guy, and we can hunt this demon down."

"Alright, Dean." The hint of a smile still lingered in Sam's voice.

"And you can buy me some M 'n' M's," Dean added.

"Al_right_, Dean."

Dean allowed himself a smile, feeling very much like a big brother again… even when his little brother wore such big shoes.


End file.
